It gets us back to the earth for a reason.

Furniture is architecture, and the fairy-tale picture should certainly be drawn with architectural lines.

The normal fairy-tale is a sort of tiny informal child's religion, the baby's secular temple, and it should have for the most part that touch of delicate sublimity that we see in the mountain chapel or grotto, or fancy in the dwellings of Aucassin and Nicolette.

When such lines are drawn by the truly sophisticated producer, there lies in them the secret of a more than ritualistic power.

Good fairy architecture amounts to an incantation in itself.
If it is a grown-up legend, it must be more than monumental in its lines, like the great stone face of Hawthorne's tale.